


It's Cold In Space

by cyarikaa



Series: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Din needs to learn to express his feelings, F/M, Fluff, Holding Hands, M/M, Other, Tumblr Prompt, its winter on a random made-up planet, romantic-ish?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 19:34:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30127773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyarikaa/pseuds/cyarikaa
Summary: The fresher light was bright when you turned it on. It practically blinded you, but Din didn’t notice a change.It was in times like these that you were both envious of Din and his armor and worried for him. He had been trained to notice and pick up on so much, yet there was so much that Din could not see - like the subtle changes in the light, or that his feelings (even those of anger) were ok.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You, The Mandalorian/Reader, The Mandalorian/You
Series: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2017487
Kudos: 15





	It's Cold In Space

**Author's Note:**

> _[PROMPT:](https://cyarikaprompts.tumblr.com/post/643402201294946304/%F0%9D%90%8D%F0%9D%90%A8%F0%9D%90%A7-%F0%9D%90%92%F0%9D%90%9E%F0%9D%90%B1%F0%9D%90%AE%F0%9D%90%9A%F0%9D%90%A5-%F0%9D%90%80%F0%9D%90%9C%F0%9D%90%AD%F0%9D%90%AC-%F0%9D%90%A8%F0%9D%90%9F-%F0%9D%90%80%F0%9D%90%9F%F0%9D%90%9F%F0%9D%90%9E%F0%9D%90%9C%F0%9D%90%AD%F0%9D%90%A2%F0%9D%90%A8%F0%9D%90%A7)_ my muse slow dances with your muse with no music playing

It’s cold.  
_Damn_ , space can be so fucking cold.

After all, it was the cold nature of the people in space that had landed you on this damned planet in the first place - a planet where the weather itself was (ironically and dishearteningly) just one solid sphere of cold, frozen, _snow and ice_.

Din didn’t seem to mind it though… or, if he did, he did not say a word about it.  
The moment the Crest crashed on the planet he gave you his usual quick and quiet sigh and then immediately hopped up from his seat and got to work. Before you could so much as wrap your head around what had happened - the shooting, the sudden and unexpected violence, the crash landing - Din was already hard at work repairing the ship so he could turn around and (likely) do it all again with another stranger who had a bone to pick with him, or his ship, or all Mandalorian kind, or the kid… or really _anything_ (because anything and everything that existed seemed to come at that man for almost no reason at all, at almost any time at all. He was like a magnet to it.)

But Din didn’t care. He was simply carefree like that.  
His mind was not plagued with nonsense like yours.  
It was quiet and calm. It was caring and cool under pressure. His mind was… was… _angry?_

No. That _couldn’t_ have been right.  
You _must_ have misheard that, but it almost _sounded_ like… anger.  
Right outside the ship you heard it… a yell, a scream, a hit.

You had half a mind to be worried that he was in yet _another_ fight, that he had been hurt, but you _knew_ that voice.  
_God_ , you knew that voice. That voice haunted you day in and day out, during sleep and wake. It _was_ Din out there groaning and yelling, throwing some form of debris from the Crest into the fresh snow several feet away - It _was_ Din that decided to raise a first in anger, throwing it with full force at the Crest - and, in the end, it _was_ Din that got himself so worked into a fit of anger that he misstepped, sliding on the ice and falling hard, knocking the air right out of his lungs.

“Din!” You screamed, his name - forbidden to most - coming out crisp and sharp and  
_loud_ into the blank empty air, “Are you alright?”

You were at his side quickly, dropping to your knees in the fresh snow and looking him over once, _twice, **three times**_ just to be safe - just to be certain he was safe. And he was, thank the gods. _Physically_ , he was the epitome of health… but something else was wrong. There was something within Din - far under the surface - that was _far_ from ‘alright’.

“I- I’m fine.” He groaned, his voice coming in loud and startling you as he quickly tried to stand - but Din was not quite balanced yet, not quick recovered enough after his fall to stand so quickly on the thin layers of ice that blanketed the ground, and his quick rise only led to him falling once more. Din groaned.

“ _Don’t_ say a word.” He demanded, “I _am_ fine.”

Din was not fine. That much was clear.  
Din was anything but _fine_ , especially now.

“No. You are angry.” You said, and Din sighed, silently denying every word you had said.  
“You _are_.” You demanded, and Din groaned, laying himself flat in the snow, deciding in that moment he did not have the energy to argue with you, to declare that you were wrong even though - when it came to Din and how he was feeling - you were almost certainly _never_ wrong.

“It is alright, you know… to be angry. You _are_ allowed to be angry, Din.”

Din didn’t think so.  
“It is useless.” He said, “It accomplishes nothing.”

You could not deny him that. He wasn’t wrong.  
Angry almost always leads to nothing beneficial. In fact, more often than not, anger leads to defeat, to pain, to stagnation, to a decline in your goals and tasks and progress. The people of Mandalore knew that. That was the very reason they taught that very mentality, the very reason they ingrained it into the mind of a young, lost, and scared Din Djarin.

That did not change the fact that humans are naturally inclined to anger, but it did not make it wrong.

You rose, standing firmly on the balls of your feet soest how you would not slip or stumble  
as you reached a hand out to Din, helping him rise on his own.

“Lets go inside for a bit.” You said. Din raised a hand towards the ground in response, motioning at the ship, at the fragments of it he had thrown onto the ground in rage. You knew what he was going to say next, you knew he was going to argue with you, to cause himself more pain and a build-up of even more anger, so you grabbed his hand, “ _No_ , Din. You need to rest.”

This time he listened.  
This time he let you hold his hand and drag him back onto the Crest. He let you walk him inside and up the latter and all the way to the fresher before he let go of your hand and stopped you.

“What are you doing? We don’t have time for this.”

He hadn’t noticed, you supposed. In all his anger there were bounds of adrenaline that kept him from seeing the details like he usually could (another reason those on Mandalore thought anger was best left behind), but Din was soaked. His cape, his shoes, his armor, and even the clothes underneath it were soaked deep from the snow. There wasn’t a patch on him that was dry.

“You are shivering.” You said, and it was only then that Din noticed it.  
It was only then that he took the time to look down at himself and assess the situation as you had done before.

“Oh.” He said, suddenly feeling quiet and even less open to argument, “Alright.”  
He looked back up at you, nodded, and grabbed your hand once more - like a child who didn’t know where he was or were to go - and he let you lead him all the way into the fresher.

The fresher light was bright when you turned it on. It practically blinded you, but Din didn’t notice a change.  
It was in times like these that you were both envious of Din and his armor and worried for him. He had been trained to notice and pick up on so much, yet there was so much that Din could not see - like the subtle changes in the light, or that his feelings (even those of anger) were ok.

You shut the door behind the two of you.  
“Turn around.” You said, and Din was hesitant, but he listened.

He was quiet as you removed the metal from his shoulders and as you unclasped the panels from his front and his back, but Din was even more quiet as your hands came around his neck, slowly finding the end of his cloak - your hands brushing along his skin as you did - and removing it from the rest of his gear.

“Hands.” You commanded, and Din turned around once more and placed his hands in your own.  
Din was quiet then too, but in a way much different from before. Din still did not have a word to say to you as you removed his gloves one finger at a time, but now his breath was _loud_. It was heavy through his helmet for a long time - up until the last finger slipped out of his gloves and his hands - bare - were on yours. Then, suddenly, he stopped.

“Can I remove it?” You asked, and all Din could do was nod.

You had seen Din’s face before.  
The first time was an accident - one the two of you do not much like to talk about. At first it had all the makings of a classic “Din Djarin Story” if you had ever heard one. There were monsters and fighting and violence, but it ended very differently than most. It ended darker than most. The second time was much more pleasant. It was by Din’s own resolve. _He_ had lifted the mask. He wanted you to see. He said that it was alright. You had seen his face a handful of times after that in the couple years you had worked for him, but you had never asked before. Din had always been the one to remove the mask and it had only been when he thought it necessary. This time was a lot different.

So, you took your time. You lifted it slowly and carefully over his features - slowly over his chin, and carefully around his ears - until finally, there he was - just looking back at you as if he always had been.

“Hi there.” You whispered gently, and a smile grew on his face when you did.  
_Gods_ , you never got tired of that smile.

Din put his hands back in yours and leaned in close to you, resting his head on your shoulder.

"Hi." He said, shy and quiet as he hid himself further into the crook of your neck.  
You could feel all the tension leave him in that moment. You could feel it fade away as he smiled.

"You're cold." You said.

"I know."

The rest of his clothes were quick to come off after that and, thankfully, (unlike everything else on the ship that seemed horribly broken) the fresher water was quick to warm up.

You waited for him until he finished, trying your best to wring out his clothes and make them dry for his return, but when he did return - wrapped in a towel with his chest pressed to your back and his arms hugging your waist the moment he set his eyes on them - he was hesitant to ask for them back, hesitant to wish to get back to work.

“I can go back out tomorrow and fix the ship, you know.”  
“What if it snows?” You asked, worried about the many pieces of the ship that had made their way onto the ground.  
“Who cares.”

You liked this side of Din - a side he had been reluctant to reveal and revel in up until recently.  
Din’s mind had always been calm and carefree but _this_ was a different kind of ‘carefree’ altogether.  
This was _relaxed_ and _comfortable, cozy_ and warm. This was domesticity if you had ever seen it, and it suited Din.  
_It suited him so well._

Stress and war and strength and honor had been Din’s coat of arms for so long that you had come to think that, even under all those layers of grimace and armor and the mask and the sweat and the blood, that Din was just _like that_. That he was the Mandalorian code in physical form, that he had nothing else. But that wasn’t Din. _This_ was Din.

Din was a “who cares”, carefree and calm attitude covered in those layers of rules and codes.  
Din was relaxed and comfortable. Underneath it all, Din was a lover. Din was a father. Din was peaceful.

“Fix it tomorrow.” You commanded, and you could feel Din smile into your neck as you did.

“Ok,” He said, “Let’s go to bed.”

**Author's Note:**

> ･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* _[come find me, babes](https://cyarika-writes.carrd.co/)_ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧


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